by R. L. Stine
To my surprise, Doug was sitting all by himself at a table near the doors. Why isn’t he sitting with his friends? I wondered. He looked as if he’d been at the bar all night. His hair was down over his face. His black-and-red Metallica T-shirt was ripped at the collar.
“A simple toast,” Dad continued, his voice echoing off the rafters. “I just want to say thank you. Thank you, Doug, and thank you, Marissa, for giving us all a reason to come together at this beautiful resort and celebrate!” He raised his glass higher. “Thank you both!”
Raised glasses and the words thank you repeated around the room. Dad sat down with a smile on his face. He turned to Mom. “Guess our daughter is taking the whole beauty rest thing seriously. She’s going to miss breakfast.”
“Marissa never eats breakfast anyway,” I reminded him. “That’s how she keeps her perfect figure, remember?”
Dad frowned at me. “Harmony, you’re not being sarcastic, are you? Please don’t be sarcastic on your sister’s wedding day.”
I kissed his forehead. “Dad, I don’t have a sarcastic bone in my body. You know that.”
I jumped up and, carrying my coffee mug, made my way to Doug’s table. He had his elbows on the table and was resting his head in his hands. He didn’t smile as I approached. I realized I hadn’t seen him smile much the whole weekend.
I dropped down across from him. “What’s your problem?” I don’t like to beat around the bush.
He stirred as if I’d awoken him. “Excuse me?”
“You okay?” I asked, squinting hard at him. He hadn’t shaved yet. One eye was a lot redder than the other. “You’re sitting here by yourself?”
He shrugged. “Resting up, you know?”
I took a long sip of coffee. “Shouldn’t you be bro-ing around with your buddies? You know. Happy groom stuff.”
He stared back at me, still without smiling. “I guess.”
“Come on, Doug,” I said. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Give me a break, Harmony. I’m just tense, you know. Don’t I have a right to be nervous?”
I didn’t know how to answer that. “Sorry,” I muttered. I started to get up.
“No worries.” He forced a smile. Even his smile was kind of grim. Like it was painful for him. He’s such a sullen guy, I thought. And for the thousandth time I thought, What does Marissa see in him?
I decided maybe I did need some breakfast. The wedding was scheduled for one o’clock. There wouldn’t be a chance to eat until the reception afterward.
I was nearly to the food table when someone grabbed my legs and nearly tackled me to the floor. I twisted around. “Max! Hey! Let go, buddy! Let go!”
He tossed back his head and laughed. He tightened his arms around my legs.
“Sorry.” Uncle Kenny had to pry the little monster off me. “Max is excited about the wedding,” Kenny said. “Aren’t you, Max?”
“No.” He burst forward to tackle me again, but Kenny managed to restrain him.
“Max, tell Harmony what you’re going to do at the wedding,” Uncle Kenny urged.
“Throw flowers,” Max said.
I laughed. “Yes. You’re the flower boy. You carry the basket of flowers at the end of the line.”
“I’m going to throw them,” Max said.
“Wait till you see Max in his tux,” Kenny said, patting him on the shoulder.
“No tux,” Max shouted. “No tux!”
“Shhhh.” Kenny patted the kid’s shoulder some more.
“I can’t believe they don’t have omelets,” Kenny said. “A place like this, they should have their own omelet chef, don’t you think? The scrambled eggs were so cold, they were probably right out of the freezer.”
“That’s too bad,” I murmured. What could I say? I watched Max lead Kenny out of the dining hall. Guess I won’t have the scrambled eggs, I decided.
I don’t know where the rest of the morning went. I guess I spent the whole time getting ready for the wedding. A new makeup and hair guy arrived a little after ten. I usually don’t like people fussing over me. I refuse to ever get a massage. It just makes me uncomfortable.
But I liked this guy, mostly because he was fast. He kept telling me what beautiful eyes I have. Such a liar. I know my eyes are pale and kind of dull, not my best feature. But he was trying to be nice, so I didn’t call him on it.
He put a lot of product on my hair. He said it was windy at the top of the mesa, and he didn’t want my hair to blow away. Then he did some nice things with eyeliner that made me look more dramatic, and gave me a lipstick much darker than I’d ever used. It was actually a good look for me.
My dress was simple and not lilac. Marissa had picked lilac for all the dresses the girls in her wedding party wore. For once, I was glad I was going to be an innocent bystander.
My dress was red. Long and simple and not sexy enough to take away from Marissa. But it was red, and I expected a few comments about it.
I was just adjusting the top when Robby burst into my room without knocking. “How do you do this?” he cried. “Harmony, do you know how to do this?”
He waved a black tuxedo bow tie in my face.
He was in a white tuxedo shirt, ruffled in the front, and tuxedo pants with wide suspenders that made him look ridiculous. Thank goodness the jacket would cover them.
“Are you going to wear a cummerbund?” I asked.
“I don’t think that came with the tux,” he said. “I don’t really know what it is anyway.” He pushed the bow tie at me. “How am I supposed to know how to tie this?”
“How am I supposed to know?” I replied. I took it and dangled it in front of me. “Robby, it’s a man thing, you know?”
He grabbed it back. “You’ve got to know. You’re supposed to know things.”
I laughed. “Is that a compliment?” I pulled him toward the door. “Dad will know how to tie it,” I said. “Come on. Let’s ask him.”
Robby pulled back. “I don’t know. I heard them fighting in their room. Mom was screaming at him.”
“About what?”
“I couldn’t hear.”
“Why does everyone get so weirded out before a wedding?” I asked, mainly to myself. I pulled open the door. “Come on. Let’s break up the fight and get Dad to tie your tie.”
So we walked down the hall to their room at the very end. A white-uniformed woman pushed a cart past us, the shelves loaded with trays of cookies and small pastries. I wanted to grab a few off the cart, but I restrained myself.
Robby and I nodded to two of Marissa’s friends, their lilac dresses down almost to the floor, as we passed. “You look gorgeous!” I told them.
Robby and I stepped up to our parents’ door. Silence in their room. The fight must have ended, I hoped in a draw.
I raised my hand to knock—and the door swung open.
Mom poked her head out. Her hair was up, shiny, and I’m sure sprayed just as stiff as mine. She was still in a white hotel bathrobe.
“Go help your sister,” she said before Robby and I could say anything.
“What’s her problem?” Robby said.
“There’s no one helping her,” Mom said. She sounded breathless. I could see she was in a panic. “She’s all alone down there. I don’t understand it.”
“Did you talk to her?” I asked.
“No. She doesn’t answer her phone. She didn’t come down to breakfast. I can’t reach her.”
“Weird,” I muttered.
“Just go,” Mom said. “Go help her. I don’t know if her friends are with her or not. She needs help to get dressed and everything.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“What can I do?” Robby said. “I can’t help her. I need help with this stupid thing.” He waved the bow tie in Mom’s face.
“Okay. You go, Harmony. Help her. Call me on my cell if you need me. I’ll be dressed in another ten minutes.”
She stepped back so Robby could enter the room. The door
closed. I stood there for a few seconds. Why weren’t Marissa’s friends helping her? Taylor? Dani? Olivia and the others?
“Sisters should help sisters,” I muttered mockingly. I turned left at the end of the hall and hurried to Marissa’s suite at the far end. I felt the worn carpet under my feet, and I realized I hadn’t even put my heels on yet.
I reached Marissa’s door, took a deep breath, and raised my hand to knock. “Marissa?” I called, pressing my face close to the door. “It’s me.”
No reply.
I knocked three times, pretty hard knocks. “I came to help you, Marissa,” I called. “Do you need help?”
Still no reply.
I pressed my ear against the door and listened. I couldn’t hear any movement in there, no footsteps, no music on, nothing.
“Hey, Marissa?” My voice got shrill. “Open up. Come on. Mom said I should help you.”
Silence.
I grabbed the brass doorknob. Turned it and pushed. The door swung open. “Marissa? Hey—!” I stepped through the short entryway. The suite opened to a living room on the right, the bedroom to the left.
Marissa’s wedding dress was draped over the back of the leather living room couch.
“Marissa?”
I turned and strode to the bedroom. The bed was made. It looked as if it hadn’t been slept in. No clothes strewn about. No cosmetics bag in the bathroom.
My heart starting to pound, I slid open the closet door. The closet was empty.
My throat tightened. I had to remember to breathe normally.
“Marissa? Hey, Marissa?”
She was gone.
I froze there for a moment, the room twirling in front of my eyes. I had to force myself to start breathing again.
This can’t be happening.
And then I murmured out loud, “Get moving. You have to tell Mom and Dad.”
I gripped the door handle, then stopped.
A white envelope lay at my feet. I bent to pick it up. My name was scrawled in red ink on the back.
A note for me? Did Marissa leave me a note?
I tore the envelope open with a trembling hand. I pulled out a ripped strip of yellow paper. I raised it to my face and read the words scribbled raggedly in red ink:
DON’T LOOK FOR ME
Part Three
Twenty-Five
“Marissa is gone. Her wedding dress is still there, but the rest of her things have been cleared out. Her bed doesn’t look like it was slept in.”
The words burst from my mouth in a breathless rush. They didn’t even sound like words to me. I couldn’t believe I was saying them.
Mom uttered a low groan and started to collapse. I saw her eyes roll up and her knees bend. Dad grabbed her and helped her into a chair.
She kept murmuring, “No no no no” and shaking her head. A single tear rolled down the makeup on one cheek.
Robby lowered his phone to his pants pocket. He squinted at me as if he didn’t recognize me. Dad held Mom’s hand, his eyes on me. “You’re sure?”
“She . . . isn’t there,” I stammered. “She’s gone, Dad. You can look for yourself.” I didn’t mean to sound harsh, but I was having trouble breathing and I couldn’t control my voice.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. But my parents looked so pale and distressed, I knew I had to keep it together.
“Where’s Doug?” Robby asked. “Maybe she’s with Doug?”
Mom gazed up at Dad. “Do you think—?”
Robby raised his phone and punched a number. “I’ll try him.”
We didn’t move, staring at Robby. I had my fingers crossed. Please, please, be with Doug.
Robby lowered his phone. “No answer.”
“This is impossible,” Dad muttered. “Marissa wouldn’t just leave without telling anyone. That’s not like her.”
“Then where is she?” Mom cried.
Before anyone could answer, a knock on the door. “Come in!” I shouted.
I know we all hoped it was Marissa. But Rita Gonzalez, the wedding planner, stepped into the room, her trusty clipboard pressed against the front of her gown.
“The guests are in place,” she announced. “It’s time to go out to the site. I’ve been looking for the bride. Do you know—” She stopped when she saw the grim expressions around the room.
She lowered the clipboard to her side. “What’s wrong? Please tell me.”
I spoke up first. “You haven’t seen Marissa?”
“No. Not since last night. Is she dressed? Should I send my assistant for her?”
“She’s gone,” I said. Again, the words didn’t really seem real.
Rita gave a sharp intake of breath. “Gone? You mean—?”
“I mean gone,” I said. “She’s not in her room, and she isn’t dressed, and her stuff is missing.”
Rita kind of slumped. She recovered quickly. “Cold feet, do you think?”
“We don’t know what to think,” I said. Dad was comforting Mom, holding on to the shoulders of her dress from the side of the chair.
Robby was on the phone again. “I keep trying Marissa’s number. It goes right to voice mail. I sent her a text, but it says undelivered.”
“The guests are all seated,” Rita said. “The minister arrived and is waiting to take his place at the altar.”
Dad sighed. “We have to make an announcement, I guess. What can we do? We have to tell them there will be no wedding.”
“I can do that for you, Mr. Fear,” Rita said.
Dad thought for a moment. “No. Thank you, Ms. Gonzalez. I think I’d better do it myself.”
“Is someone going to tell Doug first?” I asked.
They stared at me blankly, as if they’d all forgotten about Doug.
Robby punched Doug’s number on the phone again. “He isn’t picking up.”
“I’m sure he’s on the mesa with his best man,” Rita said. “Calming his nerves before he takes his place at the altar.”
“I’ll go tell him,” I said, starting to the door. I was suddenly desperate to get out of that room. There was no air to breathe. The shock was taking away all the oxygen.
I hurtled out the back door of the lodge. I was running on sheer nervous energy. I wanted to collapse in a heap like Mom, curl into a ball and not come out. But I knew they needed me to help handle everything.
Marissa was always their go-to person, the one they relied on. But now it had to be me.
The afternoon sun was high in a pale blue sky. The grass swayed in a soft breeze, gleaming like gold in the sunlight, as I trotted up the dirt path to the mesa top.
I could hear music as I approached, a string quartet playing some kind of light classical music. And I could hear the soft murmur of voices as our guests, seated on both sides of the red-carpeted aisle, waited for a wedding that wasn’t going to happen.
As I climbed the slope toward the top, the altar came into view. It was covered in lilacs (what else?), Marissa’s favorite flower. Of course, June was past lilac season. But Dad somehow had them frozen or something, shipped in for the wedding. Anything for Marissa.
Breathing hard, I trotted up the path, tall grass brushing the skirt of my dress. I spotted Doug at the back of the seats, standing by himself, his tuxedo shining in the bright sunlight, hands stuffed into his pockets. He had his head down, almost as if he were praying—and didn’t see me until I rushed up to him, gasping for breath.
When I touched his shoulder, he finally raised his head. “Harmony? What’s up?”
“Doug, I . . .” I struggled to get the words out. “Listen, Doug . . . I have to tell you . . .”
He narrowed his eyes at me. I could see the impatience on his face, mixed with confusion.
“Marissa is gone,” I finally managed to choke out.
He didn’t move. “Excuse me?”
“Marissa isn’t in her room. She took her stuff. She’s gone.”
He blinked his eyes several times. I could see he was struggling to process it.
“She’s gone,” I repeated. I wasn’t sure if he understood me.
A fly buzzed around his head. He made no move to brush it away.
Finally, he uttered a loud curse. When he removed his hands from his pockets, they were balled into tight fists. His eyes went wide, and his mouth formed a scowl. He cursed again.
Then he brushed past me, nearly knocking me over, and went stomping down the path toward the lodge. I stood stunned, watching him kick at the grass as he walked, tight fists at his sides.
Weird, I thought. He didn’t seem surprised at all. Did Doug know this might happen?
I didn’t have long to think about it. My dad’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
I turned to see him at the altar. He had the microphone in his hand and was saying something to the minister. They were head to head, nearly touching, and I saw the minister’s face go red.
Dad turned to the guests and raised the microphone to his face. “Hello, guests. I—” The loudspeaker squealed. Dad lowered the microphone a few inches.
“I have a sad announcement,” he said. His voice boomed against the tall cliffs. A hush fell over the rows of guests. “I am sorry to say there will be no wedding today.”
Startled cries and gasps rang out, but no one spoke.
“It seems my daughter Marissa has disappeared,” Dad continued. He stood with the microphone raised, stood in silence. I think he was struggling to think of what to say next.
Finally, he lowered the microphone to its stand. He didn’t say another word. He walked back down the aisle, past the startled guests, keeping his head high, eyes straight ahead, not looking at anyone. He walked right past me but I’m not sure he saw me.
And now the voices rose over the mesa as everyone jumped up, all talking at once, shaking their heads, faces tight with confusion and surprise.
I saw Max and Uncle Kenny having a heated discussion. I could see that Max was refusing to leave. He had a job as flower boy, and he wanted to do it. Kenny tugged Max’s arm as he tried to explain the wedding was off. Marta, his mom, dabbed at her tears.
Aunt Dora needed help. She needed a walker, and her daughter, my cousin Nadia, seemed too preoccupied, talking to others and shaking her head, to help her mother.
